


9 Crimes

by le_chat_vilain



Series: The Joker and the Thief [21]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilt, apology, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jay comes to grips with what happened to Blaire and experiences real guilt for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9 Crimes

**Author's Note:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: rape mention, blood] 
> 
> The feels in this one! Guilt is a bitch, especially when you’re not used to it. So what happens when two people who are generally remorseless, are suddenly hit with a guilt tsunami in the worst way possible? Do they let it consume them, or do they move to higher ground and live to fight another day? I’ve also never seen the Joker as being any kind of sexual criminal, and I wanted to make that clear. I think that he does actually have lines that he won’t cross, and rape is one of the big ones. He might be a depraved fucking lunatic in the sack, but he’s not gonna go there without permission.
> 
> Musical inspiration: 9 Crimes by Damien Rice

I come to, resting against him and the bathroom wall, lying in a pool of my own blood as he gently strokes my hair and stares down at me with the most guilty look on his face that I’ve ever seen; it’s not a look he wears well or often. Or ever come to think of it.

I’m drenched in blood from the neck down, and it’s started to harden and congeal, which can only mean that it must have taken me a lot longer to come back this time. I smile at him softly, but before I can speak he beats me to it.

“Blaire, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Apologetic; another rarely featured emotion on his face.

“It’s fine, I wanted you to do it, and it was so, so worth it…” I tell him, reaching up to stroke his cheek and pull his lips down to meet mine. He doesn’t let them linger, instead pulling back and shaking his head.

“No, not…you told me he didn’t leave you a choice. How lacking was that choice exactly?” His voice is merely a whisper, like he doesn’t want to know but he needs to at the same time.

“He disarmed me, then pulled a hypodermic of compound X on me,” I solemnly inform him, and he closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, and shakes his head.

“He raped you.”

“No, he just…I mean…I agreed to it-”

“It wasn’t a question, Blaire. And I…instead of believing you when you told me you were forced into it, I chose to ignore it because if it was true, then that meant I let someone get one over on me. I let someone hurt you, again, after I promised you I’d never let it happen,” he explains. He sounds despondent and he’s staring at the pool of slowly drying blood on the bathroom floor. “Then I let myself think you had to have had a choice, because that just couldn’t be true. That you that chose to…I’m not used to this…to jealousy…to having something to lose…to giving a shit…I should’ve believed you, and instead I lost my shit and I…”

I’ve never seen him genuinely cut up about anything before, and to say it’s a confronting sight would have to be the understatement of a lifetime. But if we’re coming clean, I guess it’s my turn now.

“I did go there knowing I might have to…I knew if I couldn’t convince him any other way I had that. You didn’t, Jay, and if you went and had’ve been the one to catch him in the mood he was in then you would’ve killed him, and my emergency backup would have been gone,” I tell him. “I’m not proud to admit it, you have to know that, but I know you understand why I didn’t completely rule it out.”

“Blaire, he fucking raped you! Will you just stop trying to play it down? There’s not a lot of rules I wont break, but not even I sink that fucking low. Even I know that’s wrong and respect it,” he says through gritted teeth. “You knowing you might have had to do that doesn’t make him taking it from you by force acceptable, no fucking way. I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“But I knew, I knew, Jay. Me and Victor…it’s…long and complicated, and…I went there knowing what he is, and what he’s like. What he does and what he’s capable of. I knew there was a strong possibility, expected it even, and went anyway. I insisted on it. It’s just as much my f-”

His hand claps over my mouth and he glares down at me.

“Don’t. Do you dare fucking say it. Don’t you dare think you had any part of the blame in that. You didn’t want to do it and he fucking made you. You didn’t have it coming. You didn’t deserve it just because you made a bad choice,” he growls. “And you sure as fucking shit didn’t deserve what I did to you after either.”

He drops his hand and hangs his head back against the wall, closes his eyes, then swallows hard.  I turn around to face him, kneeling between his knees and running my bloody hands up his chest to hold his face in them, forcing him to look at me.

“I love you, you understand that right? I love you,” I impress upon him. “Even when I hate you I fucking love you, you brilliant, beautiful, sadistic idiot, and that’s without condition. You could kill me a thousand times over, but I’d never stop loving you, and I’d forgive you every single time.”

“You’re one crazy broad.” He gives me a weak smile and I slide my arms up to wind them around his neck and sit in his lap.

“And you love it,” Now it was my turn to apologize. “Still, I should have told you. I should have told you about Victor, and our history, and how far I was willing to go for this. We should’ve both gone, to him, and to the girls.”

“Because I’ve told you so much about Harley,” he snorts back with. He has a point, but then again he doesn’t, because I know all about him and Harley. I watched the whole thing happen in real time with courtside seats.

“That’s not the same and you know it,” I correct him. “I kept this from you when I shouldn’t have and look at what happened.”

“We fucked up.”

“We did. But we’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah…here’s hoping. So back in the day, you and Zsasz, huh?” he asks me. “Explains a lot.”

“Yeah,” I reply with a weak chuckle. I want to talk about it, share the load like I did about my stint in Arkham, but the fear of dredging up old shit again has me hesitating.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I dunno. I was young and stupid…I’d been in Arkham since I was 12, I didn’t know how to live on the outside, let alone how to function as an adult. The only people I knew were criminals and crazies…” I start. “And so I went to the mob, and when Falcone saw I had a knack for fixing problems…especially ones with people…he paired us up. I was so fucking stupid…we had way too much to drink one night and Victor was…he was there and I wanted…I just wanted someone. After that it was just all downhill from there. He owned me, and I didn’t know any better so I let him. When Selina found out, it ended, she made sure of it. He’s been in Arkham ever since…well, on paper anyway.”

I’m looking down at my chest, so disgusted with myself that I had ever been that stupid, that weak, that helpless. Disgusted that I slipped back into it so easily.

“Now I get why Selina was so pissed when you fell into bed with me,” he says, and I’d never connected the dots myself until now.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it makes sense,” I rest my forehead on his for a beat before brushing my lips over his and trapping him in a slow, tender kiss. “Only you actually care. You, in spite of what she might think, what anyone might think, actually have something beating in that chest of yours. You’re actually capable of giving a shit. You love me.”

“More than I think I’ll ever be able to tell you,” he murmurs. “Is that why I feel like an absolute cunt about all this?”

“I think the colloquial term for it is guilt,” I laugh softly. “And yeah, I think it is. I got it too.”

People can say what they want about him, about us. They can call us lunatics, murderers, cold, depraved monsters. They can call us deranged and accuse us of not having hearts or souls, and really they’re not wrong I guess. But that’s because they’ll never see us like this. They’ll never see us being human; they don’t want to, we’re easier to hate the less like them we are. They’ll never understand us. They haven’t walked in our shoes or felt what we feel. And we’re fine with that; we don’t need their acceptance, far from it. All we need is each other, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure that at the end of the day, when the world’s in chaos, crumbling under the weight of it’s own corruption, that we’re standing there together, laughing as it burns.  

“I don’t like it.”

“Me either. How do people deal with this all the time? It’s fucking awful.”

“I have no idea. How do we make it stop?” he asks me, and truth be told I don’t know.

“I dunno, it’s not exactly familiar territory for me either,” I shrug. “But I can think of something to start with…you know…that we could try…”

I slide my legs either side of his and trap him into a deep, hungry kiss. He’s quick to catch on, his hands run up my thighs to my ass, and he lifts me up, and sets me back down on his cock. I rise and fall slowly, rolling my body into his and putting every ounce of my being into it, giving him what I never gave Victor. I never gave Victor my love. He runs one arm up my back and the other grips my knee and he rolls me over so I’m laying in the blood. By the time we’re shuddering and panting in each other’s arms the air smells of copper and sex and it probably looks like there was a massacre in here, but all I can see is him.

How, on all of god’s green earth, did it end up like this? How of all the people in this city, did it end up being him? Was this all predestined or was it just something that occurred organically in the most ironic way possible? How is it that the two of us, two people the world cast aside as broken beyond repair and completely incapable of humanity, came to find exactly that in each other? How did we go from fighting and fucking, to making love and apologizing; from being okay with destroying each other, to being willing to die to save each other? I smile as I think about how it’s probably the most beautiful joke that’s ever been told, and we’re the only ones who’ll ever hear it.

He sinks back to his haunches and then slides through the mess on the floor, landing to sit in the shower. His hand reaches out to take mine and he pulls me in after him, catching me in his arms with a grin and reaching up to turn on the tap. I smile back at him as the water washes the red away and it slowly disappears in crimson rivers down the drain. My silver hair is once again silver, and he turns me in his arms to lean with my back against his chest. I happily snuggle against him, as we let the warm water wash over us and take with it the hell that tonight brought with it, fingers intertwined and his lips pressed to the top of my head.

But it’s still taunting me, a single niggling, nagging thought in the back of my mind that I can’t shake.

“What if we’re wrong?” I ask him. “What if we’re wrong about Arkham, and even if we do pull this off, we die in three and a half months anyway?”

“Then we die in three and a half months anyway,” he responds, and I look up at him hoping to god it doesn’t come to that. “We’ll make Johnny test some of the stuff, if we’re wrong, we’re wrong. If we’re right, we’re right. Either way, we’ll know.”

“If we’re wrong…I don’t know if I wanna know.”

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear and ducks down to kiss me with a smile thats sadness spreads all the way into his baby blue eyes.

“Yeah, me either. Try not to think about it, okay? Just…try.”


End file.
